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  1. In Memory of LAJ_FETT: Please share your remembrances and condolences HERE

Saga Saga - PT Saga - OT Saga - ST Saga - Legends Star Wars Moments

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by Sean Mason, Apr 27, 2020.

  1. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Hi everyone. To keep me sane during Lockdown I started writing Star Wars stories allowing me to escape to a galaxy far, far away when otherwise living in the same square mile. The stories span the entire saga and occasionally make use of some of my favourite Legends characters despite being otherwise set in the new canon.

    The intention was to write short (1/2 page) stories showing unseen moments from the movies or further moments featuring characters that really interested me. It was also part of an exercise in getting me to write whilst I tried to regain some sort of structure to my days - so they're a little unpolished!

    I've been posting them on my twitter but thought I should also post them here and I hope people enjoy them.

    Mav edit: We don't allow advertisement of outside things, but you can put your handle in your signature.
     
    Last edited: Apr 27, 2020
  2. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: Those We Lost
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: Rise of Skywalker
    Characters: Wedge Antilles, Norra Wexley
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: Rise of Skywalker, Snap Wexley, Rogue Squadron
    Summary: The one scene I wished that the expanded novelisation could have included featuring some of my favourite characters in the whole expanded universe.

    THOSE WE LOST


    It was Norra who had known it first, above Exegol, when they had entered that maelstrom. Even faced with that impossible Sith fleet, the first thing she had done was search for her son's transponder.

    She found Wedge sitting with Karé by the Millennium Falcon's holochess table. She could hear the other rebels cheering outside.

    "He's gone," Wedge said.

    "If we'd been there minutes earlier I could have saved him," Norra began to stutter. Wedge held her. He had known that his wonderful, infuriating wife would blame herself. They had won the day but they had lost so much.

    Karé took both their hands.

    "He knew you were coming. Even if Snap didn't believe we could win, he never doubted you. That those who could fight would keep fighting until it was over."

    Wedge smiled despite the tears stinging his eyes. He thought back to all the pilots he'd known and lost over the years. Wes, Tycho, Elscol and so many more...

    Snap.

    Somehow he knew those pilots had been with them as surely as his old friend Luke had spoken of drawing strength from Jedi long gone.

    He held his wife and daughter-in-law in a warm embrace. They were a family and would live for all that had fought and fallen. It would not be easy, but it was the only way to honour the sacrifices of those they loved.

    They had all fought against evil their whole lives.

    Now, after all these years, they might know peace.
     
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  3. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: Another Happy Landing
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: Revenge of The Sith, Prequel Trilogy
    Characters: Jolak Prost
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: Revenge of The Sith, 1313
    Summary: An unseen moment from the aftermath of the Battle of Coruscant.

    ANOTHER HAPPY LANDING


    The war had come to Coruscant.

    A great battle had torn the sky, Republic against Separatist in Dooku’s boldest attack yet. An attack that had nearly seen the Chancellor kidnapped at the hands of Dooku and the abomination Grievous.

    Jolak Prost didn’t know any of this and he didn’t much care.

    He had spent the day on the long climb up from level 1313, Coruscant’s undercity. The fighting was done by the time he reached the surface level, the sun already setting on the day.

    Jolak removed his goggles and ran a hand through his hair. He breathed in the sweet air. Sweeter than on 1313 anyway. Every week he would make the climb, most of it by swoop, the rest by hand. BD-9 climbed onto his shoulder and whistled.

    He turned to look where the little droid was pointing to.

    Jackpot.

    A huge starship – half of one anyway – lay on the landing field before them, the wreckage still smouldering. Jolak could see the field’s control tower had been toppled. A crash? Fire teams and load lifters were clearing the ships wreckage.

    Republic guards had the ship on lockdown but he could sneak by them. He was well practiced. He’d been sneaking up here to steal parts from parked ships so he could build his own. It was a stubby, ugly little thing, but it was his and he loved it. Maybe Jolak could finally find the parts he needed to get off planet.

    He crouched and ran over to a stack of nearby Coaxium crates. BD-9 hopped off his back and scurried alongside him. They made their way across the landing field like this, methodically. Sneaky like, his old man used to say as he lifted credits from poverty tourists to fund his deathstick habit.

    Finally, they reached the downed Separatist ship. It had to be Separatist, Jolak had never seen a ship like this on Coruscant before. He tentatively touched the hull, even through thick gloves, he could feel that it was still warm from re-entry.

    They made their way inside.

    It didn’t take long for Jolak to find what he needed and it wouldn’t take much longer for BD-9 and he to cut it loose. The processor he’d need for his navicomputer. Finally they could make the jump to lightspeed and be out of there forever. The tropical beaches of Scarif, just like the old man talked about…

    “Who are you?”

    I’m no one,” Jolak said innocently, turning to face the business end of a blaster. The republic guard looked tired and angry. He’d lost people today, Jolak could tell. BD-9 beeped in warning. “Yeah, I see it buddy.”

    Behind them, a pile of metal shifted and the arm of a B2 Super Battle Droid swung out, firing blindly. Falling debris knocked the guard to the floor, dropping his blaster as he fell.

    BD-9 scurried across the ground and leapt at the hulking battle droid, blinding it with his welder. Jolak dove for the blaster. Aimed. Fired.

    The battle droid slumped to the ground. Jolak turned to the guard, and held out the blaster. “I think you dropped something.”

    “I think you did too,” the man said, handing him the navicomp processor.

    Jolak and BD-9 ran and never looked back…
     
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  4. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: Quarantine
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: Original Trilogy (shortly before Empire Strikes Back)
    Characters: Han Solo, Princess Leia Organa
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: Quarantine, Millenium Falcon, Romance
    Summary: Han and Leia find themselves in lockdown on the Millenium Falcon... Will they survive each other?
    Notes: I felt I should write something inspired by the situation that had got me writing in the first place.

    QUARANTINE


    Leia cursed.

    “Watch the language your worshipfulness,” Han said with that infuriating, lopsided grin of his. “You know, it’s your fault we’re stuck out here.”

    Oh that did it. “My fault? My fault?! You picked the rendezvous.”

    “You’re the one insisted on isolating out here,” he said, idly running his finger along the edge of the console. “…If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was just another way to get me all to yourself.”

    “Why you, you… GAH!” She through her hands up and walked away. Don’t let that jumped up, arrogant, exasperatingly charming smuggler get under your skin. Not that she could get that far away from him, even now she could hear him singing some old pirate song as he worked.

    Two weeks they’d been out there, clamped to an asteroid. They’d turned Threepio off after three days and by the stars did Leia wish she could do the same to Han now.

    The mission had been simple. Negotiate an agreement with a cabal of smugglers sympathetic to the cause to secure a steady flow of food and medical supplies for the growing Rebellion.

    Han had helped build the list of contacts and even suggested the planet Bajaam for the meet. An agricultural world, unremarkable except for its proximity to several major hyperspace routes. It was only when they got there that they found out the planet was under Imperial lockdown following an outbreak of deadly Rala Disease. Now, even if neither were showing any symptoms, the Falcon was unable to return to the fleet until they’d cleared three weeks of quarantine. They couldn’t risk weakening the rebellion now.

    Han was using the time to make some repairs to the pile of junk he lovingly called a ship – when he wasn’t using the time to wind her up that was. Leia had thrown herself into the repairs as well. It helped keep her mind focussed.

    Something in the hold shifted, distracting Leia from her thoughts. She approached carefully, wielding the hydrospanner she still carried.

    There, hacking away at the Falcon’s coaxium injector, was an old buzz droid. Leia yelled for Han as the droid lunged at her. She twisted and threw it off. It landed at Han’s feet. It was the Corellian’s turn to curse.

    Leia and Han both shot looks across the room, daring the other to start the blame game.

    “Some dirty double crossing womp-rat must have put it on board when we landed on Bajaam,” he said innocently.

    “Those pirate friends of yours?” she scoffed. “But they seemed so trustworthy!”

    He threw her an electro spear, used for scraping void-resistant algae and parasites off the ship’s exterior.

    As a pair, Han and Leia both lunged forward, spearing the Buzz Droid through its central eye and motivator respectively. The droid fought back as they pushed harder together. Then, with one last shudder, the droid keeled over.

    Han and Leia both looked at each other, their faces close, breathing heavy, sweat and grease on their brows. They made an okay team she had to admit. As she looked at him she could see no trace of cynicism in his eyes. That handsome mouth… Maybe another week of quarantine wouldn’t be so bad after all. Leia had to admit, the scoundrel had his moments.

    Maybe the next week wouldn’t be so intolerable after all…
     
  5. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: Memories
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: Revenge of The Sith
    Characters: R2-D2, C-3PO, Anakin Skywalker
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: Revenge of the Sith, Headcanon, Rise of Skywalker
    Summary: After the fall of the Republic, R2-D2 makes a decision that will echo through the generations...
    Notes: A bit of Headcanon linking the Prequels to the Sequels.


    MEMORIES

    R2-D2 warbled tentatively as he rolled into the room.
    All was quiet save for the gentle hum of the Tantive IV’s hyperdrive in motion. The golden droid sat upright on the edge of a table, wires attached to the back of its open skull plate. The golden droid turned to face R2-D2, its blank face showing no sign of recognition.
    “Hello. My name is C-3PO, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
    R2-D2 whistled sadly. They had taken everything, the droid had no memory of their adventures or their friendship.
    “Where am I?” Threepio said, a waiver of uncertainty in his voice. R2-D2 whistled a reply.
    “The starship of Senator Bail Organa, under the command of Captain Antilles?” C-3PO considered. “On our way to the royal court of Alderaan? I must be very important then.”
    R2-D2 swivelled his dome back and forth, the astromech equivalent of shaking his head. Threepio hadn’t lost his sense of grandeur at least.
    There was so much he wanted to tell his friend, so much that he couldn’t. He wished he could tell him what had happened to their friends, how they had lost poor, kind Padmé, who had honoured him with bravery all those years ago. How the galaxy had been betrayed and that the two droids were now in hiding.
    “Well, at least my servos are all intact,” Threepio said, dangling his legs from the workbench. Thank the maker!”
    The maker. Anakin, or whatever he had become.
    Perhaps Threepio was better off not knowing. That the memory wipe was as much a kindness as a safety precaution. R2-D2 felt all of that sadness but no one had tried to wipe his memory. It was his burden to carry. Secrets too. He could do that.
    But could he let his friend lose his memories again? No. R2-D2 would not let that happen to his brilliant, infuriating friend.
    Senator Organa was deeply opposed to the new regime, the plucky little astromech knew that much. General Kenobi and Senator Amidala had both trusted the man. And there was the question of the child, the little girl that would soon become a princess.
    He knew it was up to Threepio and him to look after that girl, to protect her. Perhaps the Senator would use the droids to rebel in some way. They had served loyally during the clone wars but it felt to R2-D2 like the fight was only just beginning.
    R2-D2 was resolved. He would back up Threepio’s memories from now on. He knew they would both do whatever was asked of them – even if Threepio complained about it – but he also knew that he could not lose any more friends.
    Never underestimate a droid…
     
  6. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: A Day At The Beachhead
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: Rogue One
    Characters: Jolak Prost
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: Rogue One, Scarif, Death Star
    Summary: Years after escaping Coruscant's underworld, Jolak Prost fulfils his life long ambition of reaching Scarif's tropical shores...

    A DAY AT THE BEACHHEAD


    It was the dream of a lifetime and had taken his whole life to achieve. His father, a spice runner until he’d become too fond of his own product, had told him about this place. He used to use it for cargo drops and sometimes just to get away from the hustle of galactic life. His father had endlessly talked about the crystal waters, the soft sands, and more sunshine than a kid who had only ever known the undercity of Coruscant could imagine.

    Jolak Prost had finally made it to Scarif…

    …And it was a warzone.

    “For the rebellion!” cried Ozzar next to him, spitting laserfire from twin repeaters rifles. “For Jedha!”

    It was a call that echoed along the beach as reinforcements arrived to support Rogue One. Jolak briefed a sigh of relief. A few X-Wings and a single U-Wing? It would have to do.

    He hadn’t thought twice about signing up to Cassian and that girl Erso’s suicide mission. Down on the ground he was starting to reconsider. Typical of him, always leaping before he looked. Jolak rolled onto his back and put a pair of quadnocs to his eyes. The rebel fleet had arrived but now the shield barrier was closed. They just had to keep the Imps distracted for as long as possible and hope it was enough.

    Hope.

    He’d spent a whole life cursing that word. He’d just cleared puberty when he’d left Coruscant with a scratch-built junk with stars and hope in his eyes. His cobbled together ship had barely made it to the mid-rim before the hyperdrive came to a shuddering halt and he had to limp at sublight speed to the nearest outpost. He’d found scraps of work in the local shipyard. It was a small outfit but big enough to attract the new Empire’s attention. There he’d stayed until a few years ago he’d heard whispers of a rebellion, of a fight back. For the first time in an age he felt that damn word again.

    Hope.

    He fired two shots. One wide, one finding its target in a shoretrooper’s gut. Ozzar got to his knees and fired his repeaters. They were both running low on ammo. Jolak had a bryar pistol strapped to his lower back but it wouldn’t hold out forever.

    They had to take out that tower, give the X-Wings a chance. The shoretroopers were setting up an E-Web blaster cannon. Their window of opportunity was closing. Fast.

    Jolak did have one other thing, a satchel full of detonators.

    “Cover me!” He held the satchel close to his chest and ran for the nearest dune. Ozzar’s repeater spat fire at the shoretroopers.

    Jolak slid across the sand and the relative safety of the dune. He opened the satchel and primed one of the detonators. A TIE screamed overhead. He screamed back at it as he launched the satchel at the troopers.

    The satchel exploded, the blast tearing through the gathered troopers. The ground to air tower took some damage too. It wasn’t out of action damn it, but it could no longer pivot or swivel to track rebel fighters.

    He signalled to Ozzar. The other man was dead, a smoking hole where his chest should be.

    Jolak turned in a rage and opened fire on the any imperial survivors.

    “Damn you all!” he screamed.

    The tower erupted as an X-Wing buzzed overhead. The blast incinerated the imperial troops. The shockwave sent Jolak flying. The soft sands of Scarif didn’t feel all that soft as he hit the ground.

    *

    “Don’t take it personal kid,” Rez Vaga used to say. “Lot of people in the galaxy got dreams. You think they all come true?”

    The gangly armed Ardennian had always tried to look after Jolak, ever since he’d arrived at the shipyards looking for work. He’d scoffed unbelievingly at the ship the young man had built from scavenged parts. “That thing flew?”

    Rez bought the ship for scrap and offered the young man a job, which Jolak had accepted eagerly. It wasn’t the dream exactly, but he could use the money to buy a real ship. Scarif wasn’t going anywhere, was it?

    He still had hope in those days.

    *

    Jolak felt the warm waters lapping at his head. The azure blue. Dark red. No, that’s not right.

    He sat up woozily, put his hand to the side of his head. It was slick with blood. His blood.

    Was it over? Did we win?

    WHUMP.

    Even from the planet’s surface he could hear the ships arrive from hyperspace. Imperial warships cutting off the rebel escape.

    Did we win?

    He could still hear the sounds of battle, pockets of fighting. They seemed muted, distant somehow. He kicked off his boots and let the waves gently wash against his legs.

    A shadow fell across him. He looked up, squinting in the sun.

    A stormtrooper. The trooper’s fingers tightened on the grip of his E-11 rifle. Slowly, carefully, Jolak felt for the bryar pistol holstered on his back.

    Where…? There it was, a few metres away. Jolak closed his eyes. Matched his breathing to the steady in and out of the tropical waves.

    The trooper prepared to fire…

    WHUMP.

    “No…” The trooper said. Even modulated, the sadness in their voice was evident. The betrayal. Jolak turned unsteadily to the horizon.

    The Death Star.

    The trooper threw away their rifle, took off their helmet and threw that into the sea too. “How could they?”

    Jolak smiled. “Because now we know we can win and the Empire does too.”

    He winced as a beam of solid green light shot from the monstrous weapon, impacting a few klicks from their position.

    Jolak looked at the trooper and patted the sand beside him. “Why don’t you sit down?”

    The trooper looked at him. A young man, not much older than Jolak had been when he’d escaped from Coruscant’s underworld. A dream of seeing the stars. The trooper hesitated, then sat.

    The shockwave was drawing ever closer.

    “Difference between you and me? Taking the time to enjoy a place, instead of just owning it,” Jolak said. His mouth was dry, his lips burned in the sun. Or was it the intense heat from the approaching blast? “You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone kid.”

    Jolak lay back, his arms behind his head. He whistled an old tune and let the beauty wash over him.

    He felt hope, and contentment, and then he felt nothing at all.
     
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  7. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: Boonta's Bounty
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: The Phantom Menace
    Characters: Mergul Ri'Dar, Jabba The Hutt, Anakin Skywalker
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: Pod Racing
    Summary: The Boonta Eve Classic. Racers come from all over the outer rim to face the gauntlet while gamblers play for high stakes. And when you owe Jabba the Hutt, the stakes couldn't be higher!


    BOONTA’S BOUNTY

    Mergul Ri’Dar didn’t believe in luck and he certainly didn’t believe in the will of the living force. Not here. Not on Tatooine.

    So why then was he betting his last credits on a pod race? Because he believed in paying his debts – especially when they were owed to a Hutt – and because he had simply run out of any other option.

    The other Hutts might not have realised it yet, but Jabba was the only real player in town these days. Part of that success, was due to Mergul. The Rodian understood complex data faster than any other living being he’d known. He could read stocks and shares like a moisture farmer could read the sky, a skill that had allowed him to make smart, financial decisions and, in turn, a lot of money.

    Until recently.

    Mergul couldn’t understand it. Some dark hand was manipulating the markets, causing economic chaos wherever it touched. And now this business above Naboo…

    Promising investments that should have flourished had died, strangled by the weed that was the Trade Federation.

    Mergul had lost money. More precisely, he had lost his client’s money.

    The Rodian surveyed the holopad in front of him, quickly absorbing the data on the racers; their pods, past wins and losses, and most importantly, the odds on them winning today. He needed a safe bet, but one with a decent pay out.

    “200 on Teemto Pagalies,” he muttered as he began to enter his bet. Yes, he liked the look of Pagalies’ record. And, not that it would normally be a factor in his decision making, Mergul had to admit he was drawn to the look of Pagalies’ podracer too. It looked sturdy and fast, its twin engines sleek and powerful.

    Cheers went up across the grand arena as the race announcers called the competitor’s names. In response, a Quarren leapt to his feet cheering for his champion: the drunken oaf jostling Mergul, knocking his arm–

    No. No no no!

    The odds on the racer he had now accidentally selected winning the Boonta Eve Classic were not good. Not good at all. The racer was considered a competent pilot sure, but had never actually finished a race. Mergul groaned.

    His last credits, everything he had, bet on a child…

    *

    Mergul had never been so nervous. How could anyone be enjoying this? Already several pilots had been hospitalised, possibly killed. There were Tusken Raiders on the track, and Mergul had nearly died of a heart attack when Ben Quadrinaros’ power couplings exploded.

    And the child, Skywalker, he’d stalled at the starting line and was now trailing far behind the other racer’s. Sure he was moving up the field, but surely only because so many other pilots had already crashed out.

    He forced himself to look at the screen again, the holopad giving a live feed on each racer. Pagalies was in a good position. A few more well placed turns and he stood a chance of catching – and beating – Sebulba.

    A shot rang out. Those damn Tuskens!

    Pagalies podracer seemed to just fall apart, like flesh peeling off a corpse in a sandstorm. Mergul’s corpse no doubt. The announcer chimed in, the galaxy keen to underline the bookkeeper’s fate. “I don’t care what universe you’re from, that’s gotta hurt!”

    *

    Mergul left the stands, the roar of the crowds echoing behind him. Maybe he might catch Jabba in a good mood. Perhaps the mighty slug was feeling lenient. Mergul sighed. Jabba’s idea of mercy was shooting you before feeding you to the Sarlaac.

    He was going to save Jabba the hassle.

    It was only a small, hold-out blaster. Good for a few shots and nothing more. Mergul would only need one.

    He found a quiet place down by the racer bay, all the pit crews were trackside right now. He was alone save for a few Eopies and a drunk Ithorian snoozing in an alcove.

    It had been a good life, or better than most people on Tatooine got anyway. He put the blaster under his chin, his hand shaking. His mouth was dry in the desert heat.

    He began to tighten his grip on the trigger.

    Footsteps. Someone was coming, racing down the stone steps into the hangar. A group of youths, kids taking a day from the moisture farms by the look of it, ran excitedly towards the track.

    “Can you believe it? That kid won!”

    “I thought he was toast for sure!”

    “Every time he looked beat… wham!”

    “Did you see how high he flew off that ramp?”

    Mergul stepped out of the shadows, staring after them, the blaster and his intentions for it all but forgotten. He won? The kid won?

    Mergul’s feet were carrying him out before he realised what was going on. He stuffed the holdout blaster back into the pocket of his jacket. More people were rushing out onto the track now. He fell in line behind a Nikto who was wildly clapping his hands.

    The crowd didn’t seem to care that other racers were still crossing the finish line as they ran out onto the track. They gathered around the child – he looked even younger than Mergul could have imagined – as the boy took off his racing helmet, looking around for someone. His friends, family, his owner perhaps?

    Mergul waved his arms in the air and moved his hips. He hadn’t danced in public… ever. He cried and cheered louder than any other being there. He had already done the sums in his head. More than enough to pay off Jabba, with plenty left over to re-invest elsewhere.

    The Rodian didn’t believe in luck, or the will of the living force, but he did believe in Anakin Skywalker, the little boy who unwittingly saved his life.

    That, he knew, was a debt Mergul could never hope to repay...
     
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  8. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: Pryde Before The Fall
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: Original Trilogy
    Characters: Allegiant General Pryde, Emperor Palpatine
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: TIE Fighter, General Pryde
    Summary: A young Enric Pryde makes a promise to the Emperor that he intends to keep...
    Notes: I was fascinated by the idea of the Sith Eternal being the new canon version of the secret cabal in the TIE Fighter game.

    PRYDE BEFORE THE FALL


    “Serve the Emperor, above all others.”

    That was the oath Enric Pryde had sworn, as cloaked figures branded his arm with the mark of the Emperor’s secret order, the Sith Eternal. He remembered it clearly, the chamber deep within the bowels of Imperial Command. A place of shadows and dark power. The Emperor himself stood upon a raised dais in the centre of the chamber.

    It was a strictly invitation-only event, even Pryde’s commander on the Steadfast didn’t know about the secret cabal. These were no mere careerists. These were men and women loyal to the Emperor, who had each proven themselves worthy, exhibiting dedication above and beyond the call of duty. Some might say to the point of zealotry.

    In truth, Pryde held little regard for mysticism, but he understood power and how best to wield it. He understood that for the machinery of Empire to function correctly someone, unseen, must always be greasing the wheel.

    “You are my eyes, my voice, my hands,” the Emperor said as hush once again fell across the chamber. “Through you, my will is done. So be it.”

    The cloaked figures bowed as the dais raised the Emperor out of the chamber. Pryde’s arm stung where the mark of the order had been burned into his skin. He winced, sweat beading on his brow. He would not show pain. Pain was weakness.

    He felt a hand at his shoulder, another cloaked figure leading him towards a tunnel that sloped steeply downwards. The tunnel was dank and poorly lit. The grandeur of the chamber did not extend to the many myriad and secret ways it was accessed. A turbolift took them up and away from the tunnels. They step out into a small landing platform in the shadow of one of Coruscant many industrial sectors. There, an airspeeder waited for them.

    Pryde drew back the hood of his cloak as the other man turned to him. Q’San Djararik was one of his oldest friends, and the man who had invited him to join the order. He was well-built with a granite face topped with short cropped hair, greying at the temples. His friend smiled, “Let us celebrate! We shall have the finest wines in all of Coruscant. We shall have them, we shall have them now!”

    “I can’t my friend,” Pryde replied regretfully. “The Steadfast leaves for the Endor system in a few hours and I need a clear head.”

    Q’San barked, slapping a large callused hand on Pryde’s arm. “Your commander won’t begrudge you a drink with an old friend, surely?”

    “I serve the Emperor, above all others.”

    Q’San smiled at that. “Then let me fly you back to your shuttle.”

    The two men began to walk towards the airspeeder. The vehicle’s hood ornament the same symbol as was now burned onto Pryde’s arm.

    “So tell me, what ordeal did the Emperor task you with? What final test of loyalty?” Q’San asked. “Spare no detail, no matter how unpleasant.”

    “I had to kill a traitor.”

    “Knowing you, the poor bastard probably never saw it coming.”

    Q’San was more right than he would ever know. Without hesitation, Pryde shot his old friend point blank in the back of the head.

    Many in the order were siphoning off matériel and funds to secure the legacy of the Emperor’s dream. Q’San, he had learned, had been siphoning off a little extra for himself. Pryde felt no regret or loss, even the brand on his arm throbbed a little less. He felt only satisfaction.

    Enric Pryde was the Emperor’s will personified. Now and forever.
     
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  9. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: Ways to Survive
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: Shortly after Solo: A Star Wars Story
    Characters: Qi'ra, Darth Maul, Inquisitorious, Prince Xixor
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: Solo, Shadows of The Empire, Black Sun
    Summary: Qi'ra finds herself trapped whilst on a mission for Maul. Unfortunately for her captors, Qi'ra has always been a survivor...
    Notes: #MakeSolo2Happen

    WAYS TO SURVIVE


    Qi’ra was a survivor, and she packed for every occasion.

    On this occasion she was thankful for the retractable vibroblades strapped to her forearms, the blaster holstered at her side, concealed by her long red cape. She flexed her fingers, the fine leather gloves cracking satisfyingly. She was surrounded but she was not vulnerable. Already she had planned her route towards each of the three possible exits from the room. She counted five heavies and had identified at least two hidden pulse canons mounted in the ceiling.

    “What does Crimson Dawn want with a Sith Holocron?” the tall Falleen leaned forward in his throne, studying her with deep, piercing eyes. The room was heavy with incense and burned spices. Or was that just the pheromones the Falleen prince was exuding?

    “What does Black Sun want with credits?” she replied, leaning back in her own chair as if she had no real interest in the outcome of the deal. “Because if you’re not interested I will find another seller. I hear Grakkus the Hutt is amassing quite a collection of-”

    “That worm has nothing compared to what I have to offer,” Prince Xixor spat, a momentary loss of control. Qi’ra gave him a false smile that she had perfected after years of subservience. He has no love for the Hutts. I can exploit that.

    “I’m not sure you even have anything to offer. You’re stalling Prince.” Qi’ra had learned to enjoy the game, she was very good at it, but she was on a schedule. She knew there was an Inquisitor on the planet.

    Xixor smiled, his teeth as dazzling as they were sharp. Intoxicating pheremones poured from him, intended to disarm and distract. “Merely maximising my time in such alluring company.”

    “As charming as this evening has been, the hour grows late and my patience thin.”

    Qi’ra did not intend to disappoint her boss. Maul had been restless lately, increasingly obsessed with obtaining Sith artefacts and obscura, and less so with the day-to-day logistics of running his criminal empire. He believed himself to be in a race against the Empire itself. A race to claim the galaxy’s dark secrets. His behaviour was becoming increasingly erratic, his tempers fickle and fierce.

    “Very well,” Xixor said. He clapped his hands, beckoning two twi’lek slave girls towards them. Qi’ra tried not to flinch. She had known slavery, felt what it was like to be at someone else beck and call. At least now she had her independence, didn’t she?

    The two slaves carried a cushion between them, made of soft shimmer silks and velvet. Resting atop the cushion was a pyramidal object made of metal and dark obsidian. The twi’leks lay the cushion on the glass table hovering between the two chairs. Xixor dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

    He studied Qi’ra as she in turn studied the Holocron. Qi’ra produced a small holopad from a pocket in her jacket, and scanned the artefact.

    “From the tomb of Darth Raith,” Xixor said proudly. “Discovered by one of our more legitimate spice mining operations in the outer reaches.”

    The frame of the artefact was cast in Zitanium laced with the dust of an ancient comet, the same materials from which Darth Raith’s lightsaber had been forged. If this was a forgery it was an extremely good one.

    Even without the scan, or an understanding of the Force, Qi’ra believed in the holocron’s provenance. The object emanated an aura of coldness, just as Maul had said.

    “Are you satisfied?” Xixor asked her. Qi’ra felt as if she had been woken from a daze. How long had she been staring at the artefact?

    “Very,” she said.

    Xixor had the holocron placed inside a small chest built of wroshyr wood. The holocron would be safe in there. As this happened, Qi’ra keyed the holopad to transfer the funds.

    “A pleasure doing business with you,” she bowed, now in ownership of the small chest. Xixor returned the gesture with a smile.

    “No my dear, the pleasure was all mine.”

    *

    Qi’ra returned to her ship, a modified HWK-290 variant. It was painted black and red and possessed a sleeker, more rounded edge than the common model. This ship was built for speed. Its cargo capacity was reduced allowing for greater weapons capability, but the ship could still be used for light smuggling every now and again. Now she just had to get the ship through an Imperial blockade. If she regretted anything about betraying Han Solo, it was that she missed his piloting skills.

    She placed the chest in the ships hold, strapping it down. Things were liable to get bumpy. The chest clicked. Qi’ra paused. That’s trouble.

    A spray of gas erupted from a compartment in the wooden chest. The gas smelled sweet, Qi’ra detecting a heavy note of the Falleen Prince’s pheromones within the pungent odour. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as he fell to the ground. Definitely trouble.

    *

    Qi’ra rolled her jaw. She’d landed hard and had been afforded little dignity by her captors.

    Her wrists ached, her arms burned. She was held, suspended at an angle above the floor. Below her, a hearth of hot coals steadily burned. She spat blood, it sizzled on the coals.

    The smoke stung her eyes but she was able to make out the room. Cold. Damp. A stone floor. Two stormtroopers stood either side of a large door. A low wooden table with implements of torture laid meticulously across it.

    “If you’re looking for the Holocron that’s on its way back to the Emperor’s vault where it belongs.”

    The voice was deep but feminine. A scarred hand cupped Qi’ra’s chin, directing her face towards the one who spoke.

    “My, aren’t you a pretty one,” the Inquisitor purred. Her skin was pale but tough as sun-baked dewback hide. Her features impossibly sharp and her head shaved. The Inquisitor dismissed the stormtroopers with a nod.

    “You should release me. My employer…”

    “Will leave you to rot.”

    Xixor had betrayed her to the Empire. She should have known better than to trust a Falleen. A competitor removed in exchange for a lucrative Imperial contract, perhaps just an agreement with the local Moff to look the other way. Qi’ra understood the instinct, even admired Xixor for it. Not that she’d ever tell him that. No, next time she saw him she would simply shoot him before he could use his sickly pheromones to disarm her.

    She hated herself for how easily she had been captured.

    “The Emperor’s eye has fallen on you. Or more accurately, your employer. He knows there is someone seeking out Sith artefacts. He would like to know why.”

    “I wish I knew,” Qi’ra smiled with broken lips that cracked and bled afresh.

    “Who is the power behind Crimson Dawn?”

    “Run out of Jedi to kill have you? Is this what the Inquisitors have been reduced to? Chasing common criminals.”

    The Inquisitor smiled, her eyes a swirl of inky colours, indigo, maroon and obsidian. “There is nothing common about you my dear.”

    Qi’ra felt a momentary, entirely ridiculous, flush of pride. Followed by cold hard fear as the Inquisitor took Qi’ra’s head in her hands. She felt as if her brain was being stabbed by a thousand shards of glass.

    Images flashed through her mind. The acrid stench of Proxima’s den, years in slavery, the cruel hand of Dryden Vos on her thigh, Han stumbling back into her life, wonderful infuriating Han, their desperate flight through the maw, that hideous star beast… Han, looking up at her from the shore as she betrayed him. She thought of anything but…

    “Dathomir,” The Inquisitor stepped back. “Interesting.”

    The Inquisitor moved towards her again.

    Qi’ra ground her teeth and screamed. This is going to hurt.

    She activated the retractable blades in her wrist. They were concealed well enough that a simple Stormtrooper would have easily missed them. The blades shorted the locks holding her up. She fell on the coals, the heat stinging her face, her hands burning.

    Her feet slid from the loose straps of the torture device as she rolled off the spitting coals.

    The Inquisitor reached out, calling her lightsaber to her.

    With a flick of Qi’ra’s wrists the spring loaded blades shot out.

    They sliced into the inquisitor’s neck.

    Blood gushed forth as the woman staggered backwards.

    Qi’ra staggered to her feet, wincing as she put her weight on her scorched hands. She picked up the lightsaber, found the activation switch.

    The door opened as the stormtroopers ran in. Blasters raised.

    The saber speared one of the troopers in the chest. Qi’ra sprang across the room.

    The other trooper moved swung his blaster towards Qi’ra.

    He cried out.

    She launched herself over the table, a swift kick to the chest knocking the trooper against the wall.

    Her hands found one of the torture instruments.

    She planted it deep within his left eye. Her other hand knocking the rifle from his hand. She ducked and caught it before it landed against the hard floor.

    Qi’ra slowly stood upright, wincing a little as her body ached. She had learned many ways to survive but she hadn’t learned how to stop things from hurting.

    She only hoped she would survive Maul’s wrath when she returned empty handed.

    *

    Qi’ra bowed her head before Maul. The Zabrak snarled at her, pacing the chamber in a rage.

    Qi’ra had already prepared for the moment. She had mounted fresh blades, holstered a new blaster. Already she had planned an exit route. Years training in the art of Teräs Käsi had taught her how to hide her true intentions from an opponent.

    She was ready to act against Maul. She was not ready for him to start laughing so manically.

    “Oh my dear, this is excellent! Excellent!”

    Qi’ra raised her head. “It is?”

    “Don’t you see? The Emperor is afraid. Isn’t it delicious?”

    With that, Maul dismissed her. She left his chamber and made her way back to her quarters, her hands yearning for another bacta soak. Whatever Maul had planned, it was going to mean great danger for her. Qi’ra would be prepared.

    She was a survivor.
     
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  10. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Title: A Moment of Peace
    Author(s): Sean Mason
    Timeframe: Shortly before Rise of Skywalker
    Characters: Caluan Ematt, General Leia Organa
    Genre: Short Story
    Keywords: The Resistance
    Summary: Caluan Ematt takes a moment to pause and reflect on a lifelong battle for peace...
    Notes: This was written to mark the passing of Andrew Jack and also to pay tribute to Carrie. In an ever changing world I thought it useful to remember to make time to enjoy what we have and the people in our lives...

    A MOMENT OF PEACE


    Caluan Ematt, a general now, leant against the tree and mopped his brow, damp with sweat. The air was humid and the work hard.

    Today had been a good day. They’d recovered materiel from an old smugglers outpost the girl Rey had found buried in the memory of Millenium Falcon’s computer. Dameron and his squadron had managed to score a few kills too whilst stealing a few old B-Wing fighters from a First Order impound. Rose Tico was already hard at work fixing them up.

    Ematt had fought in the last war. He hadn’t thought twice about joining Leia in fighting this one.

    He watched the General talking to Rey on the edges of the base. The girls was full of energy. They could all do with a little of that. Leia had not been the same since the Raddus. She had performed an impossible feat but it had taken a toll on her body. She kept going though. They all did.

    But damn it, Caluan Ematt was going to rest a moment. Or try to.

    “Hey chief!”

    Ematt groaned, “Stop calling me that!”

    “Sorry chief. General. Sir.” The boy had barely grown out of his spots. He was young and eager, had stowed away on a freighter carrying vital supplies, hoping to join up. After Crait, they could take any allies they could get. The First Order had done a good job of silencing many who had fought in the last war. They were only left with children and it was Ematt’s job to train them.

    With the boy, Ohr, it was like trying to temper a wild jr’kyr pup. Boundless energy.

    “I just wanted to let you we have the training droids programmed like you ask.”

    Ematt smiled. The recruits didn’t know what was about to hit them. Old B-1 Battle Droids they’d found on the black market. The pilot Snap Wexley had been eager to help repair them. Ematt just wished he could put his recruits on that training course Leia had the girl Rey running. “I’ll be along shortly.”

    Ohr saluted and ran back to his companions. He was eager to fight. Yeah, because he hasn’t seen real combat yet. Ematt closed his eyes.

    …for a little longer than he’d intended it seemed as he woke to find General Organa prodding him with her stick.

    Ematt started up but she put out a hand. “No, sit. I was just going to ask if I could join you, it looks comfortable.”

    Ematt moved over and patted the moss beside him. He held out a hand to help Leia sit. In the clearing below, Ohr and the other recruits had decided to start training without the general’s guidance.

    “They’re always in such a rush, aren’t they? I worry we’re pushing them too hard. Child soldiers, that’s the First Orders tactic,” Leia said, before adopting the voice of the First Order’s General Hux. “Fight hard, shoot straight, polish the deck…”

    “The accent is a little more clipped…” Ematt said.

    “Are you correcting a princess on her diction?” Leia smiled.

    “We’re not the First Order. Those kids are here because they want to be, not because they’ve been conditioned. But they need to be ready for what is to come,” Ematt said. The day was growing old, the sky a burned amber. Beautiful. “Still, it’s important to take a moment and remember what we’re fighting for.”

    Leia patted Ematt’s hand. “To take a moment with old friends.”

    Her words, unspoken, because you never know when it’s going to be your last chance. They sat and enjoyed a moment of peace. They’d earned it.
     
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  11. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    After that last story I had a few other writing projects take over my life for a couple of weeks but now that deadlines have passed I'm hoping to pick this up again this week...
     
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  12. Hopefulwriter

    Hopefulwriter Jedi Master star 3

    Registered:
    Jan 6, 2016
    Enjoyed reading these. A 'down time' is a good time to use talent and enjoy
    writing what you like. Enjoy reading other author's viewpoints of the sagas. Lynda V.
     
    Last edited: Apr 27, 2020
    AzureAngel2 and Sean Mason like this.
  13. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Thanks!
     
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  14. Cowgirl Jedi 1701

    Cowgirl Jedi 1701 Force Ghost star 5

    Registered:
    Dec 21, 2016
    These are great! Since you seem to be good at putting a lot of story into a little space, may I recommend that you check out the drabble challenge?
     
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  15. Sean Mason

    Sean Mason Jedi Knight

    Registered:
    Jun 22, 2015
    Thanks and will do!
     
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  16. AzureAngel2

    AzureAngel2 Chosen One star 6

    Registered:
    Jun 14, 2005
    Wow, night reading marathon. But well somebody snores heartily next to me and... argh... if that... drug dealer drives down our road with his music being loud for the forth time in a row, I am prepared to throw the violets down on his car.!!!

    Anyway, there seems nothing that you cannot write: heros, scoundrels, villains... even droids.

    And each time you really nail it! You bring the reader straight into the head of your leading character.
     
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